


Things I'll Never Say

by Trista_zevkia



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Superman (Comics), Superman - All Media Types, Superman/Batman (Comics), World's Finest (Comics)
Genre: Communication, First Time, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Off-screeen threesome, Pining, Songfic, Sorry Not Sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 06:54:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4091212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trista_zevkia/pseuds/Trista_zevkia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark needs a little help with his breakup from Lois. So he decides to help Bruce get together with the person he's crushing on. Would help if he had an idea who that was.<br/>Song fic; warning you now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things I'll Never Say

**Author's Note:**

> All of the songs found in this fic come from the album _Hang Cool Teddy Bear_ By Meat Loaf.  
>  In order of usage:  
>  _Did You Ever Love Somebody_  
>  _Love is Not Real/Next Time you Stab me in the Back_  
>  _If I Can't Have You_  
>  _Peace On Earth_  
>  _Let's Be In Love_  
>  Previously posted elsewhere.

Mondays sucked, even for criminals. This was the conclusion Superman couldn’t help but come to as he hung out in the atmosphere and listened. Nothing was happening in Metropolis, so he had sent his senses out into the world. City, after city, nothing seemed to be happening. Monday’s were generally slow but this was the worst one he could remember. 

With a sigh, and boredom weighing heavily on his agile mind, Clark focused in on Gotham. He’d better have a damn good reason for responding to any emergency in that town or Batman would have his head. Batman was a big enough jerk to pull out that Kryptonite to emphasize his territoriality, or he seemed to be these days. 

Batman and Superman had a rocky start, but Clark thought they had reached equilibrium just before starting the league. Clark even thought they were friends, though he knew better than to suggest it to Batman. Within a year of the formation of the Justice League, Batman had made it a point to drive Superman to the point of insanity at every meeting. Almost as if meeting the rest of the league had convinced Batman that Superman wasn’t special or worth knowing. 

The man didn’t talk as Batman, the stupid things Brucie said made Clark’s brain hurt, and the body had to have one foot and eight toes in the grave before he would be Bruce. Clark was simply too nice of a guy to see Batman that close to death and make him answer questions before getting him help. As such, he had absolutely no idea what went through that man’s head. 

Things were just as quiet in Gotham, so Clark could easily find the distinctive sound of the Batmobile prowling the streets. That fancy car had three settings, which Clark was sure Bruce had official names for. As he was not privy to such things, Clark had made up his own names: silent runnings, mistaken for normal car, and two decibels below the sound at which glass would shatter. Batman was running in mistaken for a normal car mode so he was just an annoying guy driving around at two in the morning. 

With nothing else to do, Clark listened inside the car to see what Batman was working on. Clark was very surprised to find music playing in the car. He hadn’t even known it had a radio in all those electronics. Depending on the event, Brucie’s charity parties had dance club music or classical music. This was neither; this was a rock ballad, soft, sad and powerful. A deep voice sang out words and Clark knew the voice but couldn’t place it with distracting words being sung into the Batmobile. 

_Did you ever love somebody_  
_Even though it hurt to_  
_Did you ever love somebody_  
_Nothin' else your heart could do_  
_Did you ever love somebody_  
_Like I love you_  
_Like I love you_

The sad song ended and a brief moment of silence was the pause between two songs before hard rocking drums and guitars banged their way into the car. With a sigh, a finger jabbed and the sad song started up again. Batman sighed often, with anger or exasperation. This was different, a sad sigh that spoke of wanting. Strange. 

_Did you ever love somebody_  
_So much that the earth moved_  
_Did you ever love somebody_  
_Even though it hurt to_  
_Did you ever love somebody_

Here the singer got more lyrical and it clicked in Clark’s mind who the singer was. It wasn’t the usual rock opera he was famous for, but it was defiantly Meat Loaf singing. Clark had a hard time picturing Bruce as a Meat-Head but he’d often been surprised at what moved people. And he’d never really thought about Bruce being moved by more than revenge and anger. 

_Nothin' else your heart could do_  
_Did you ever love somebody_  
_Who never knew_

_Did you ever lay your head down_  
_On the shoulder of a good friend_  
_And then had to look away somehow_  
_Had to hide the way you felt for them_  
_Have you ever prayed the day would come_  
_You'd hear them say they'd feel it too_  
_Have you ever loved somebody_  
_Who never knew_

_And if_  
_You did_  
_Well you know I'd understand_  
_I could_  
_I would_  
_More than anybody can_  
_Did you ever love somebody_  
_So much that the earth moved_  
_Did you ever love somebody_  
_Even though it hurt to_  
_Did you ever love_

“Enough!” The Bat-voice growled out at the tail end of the song, and a finger jab turned off the music. “Damn it, Bruce, that’s enough.” 

Clark blinked down at Gotham, suddenly concerned for his teammate. Batman was so angry at Bruce for listening to a song that he was cussing at him. What level of madness was that? Another jab and the car engines revved as Batman put it into ‘two decibels below’ mode and sped to the cave. Since even Batman was calling it quits for the night, Superman knew he could as well. Instead he stayed in the sky and tried to figure out what he had just heard. 

Did the song move Bruce because it was true for him? So Bruce was in love, with a friend who didn’t love him back. Whoever it was, Clark decided, was an idiot. Except, to be worthy of Bruce’s love, they’d have to be smart enough to see past the Brucie disguise. So she didn’t know Bruce loved her, because he didn’t talk and was hard to read. 

Still, it wasn’t like Batman to not go after something he wanted. What could keep Bruce from going after her? Married, she had to be married and out of bounds for a man with a strong code of honor. Now Clark sighed, if the women of the league knew Batman and civilians knew Brucie, how was Clark going to find somebody to get Bruce over his unrequited love? 

sB _Sb_ Bs

It would be another month before Superman strolled through the Watchtower without a crisis deciding on how he spent his time. A quiet Monday afternoon that would doubtless turn into a quiet Monday night and Clark didn’t have much to occupy himself with. When he saw Batman on monitor duty he remembered the song he had heard and Batman’s response. To notice if Batman had been acting strangely over the last month Clark would have had to spend time with Bruce outside of an emergency, and that hadn’t happened. 

A good fight would keep the time from weighing so heavily on Clark, so he sauntered over and leaned against the equipment to look at Bruce. Batman looked up from the computer he was writing code on and narrowed his eyes. His lenses were retracted but he looked back down at the computer before actual emotions could show in his eyes. Cautiously, Clark started to draw Bruce out of Batman. 

“Something interesting occurred to me the other day.” Clark paused, but got absolutely no reaction from Batman. He hadn’t really expected one, so he continued. “Lois loved Superman from the start and grew to love Clark Kent. I recently told her they were the same person and she’s having a hard time adjusting to it. When you find somebody to love, even if they love Brucie and Batman, they will essentially have to learn to love a third person.” 

“None of those three are lovable, but two-faced jerks are. Is that the point you’re trying to make?” 

“I have two aspects of my personality; you almost have three distinct personalities. My point, was that I can understand why you have a hard time finding somebody.” 

“At the next Superman fan club meeting, have Lois set me up with somebody.” 

Clark rolled his eyes at that, he had fan clubs but Lois had never been involved with them, and Bruce probably knew that. “Lois no longer attends those meetings, so you’ll have to find somebody on your own.” 

“How did Lois lose the presidency of the fan club?” 

“Lois was never a member of a fan club; could you get off of it?” Clark surprised himself at the emotion in his response and Batman looked up at him. Specks of blue focused on Clark before Bruce answered. 

“Actually, I was referring to the resent trend her articles have taken. She talks about Superman wearing disguises to buy groceries and lying to people about who he is. Lois seems to be souring on her savior from the stars.” 

Clark sighed heavily; it was his own fault for talking to Bruce just to avoid going home to an empty apartment. “Fine. I told her my secrets and she took it harder than I expected. She still had her apartment under lease so she moved back in until she had time to work things out. I stopped to talk to you rather than going home and waiting for her to make up her mind.” 

“Look, if you want tips on revitalizing your sex life, Brucie’s your guy. If you need to find a way to make her fall back in love with you, I’d suggest anybody in this tower but me.” 

“People fall in love with you all the time.” 

“People fall in bed with Brucie, and people cower in fear before Batman. This third personality you accuse me of having doesn’t get out much.” 

“Come on Bruce! You know there’s more to you than Batman and Brucie.” 

“My family and you are the only ones who know Bruce. So what exactly are you hoping to get from this conversation?” 

“I was hoping you’d distract me by telling me who you have the hots for right now.” 

“You can pull up the society page of the Gotham Gazette on your own time.” 

“Please! Like any of Brucie society friends could have you sighing with longing. 

“I don’t sigh with longing.” The Bat-voice was very firm on this and disturbed by what Clark was implying. 

Clark blushed and then clamped down on it, so hopefully it wasn’t too deep. He had heard that sigh when he was eavesdropping from space, and telling Batman about that was basically asking to get Kryptonite poisoning. “Figure of speech. Anybody special in your life?” 

Narrowing his eyes didn’t diminish the focus of those eyes on Clark and he forced himself to not squirm under that look. Fearing Batman was going to stare him into talking about when he had heard the sigh of longing, new voice called out to Clark and provided a welcome distraction. 

“Superman, are you on duty tonight?” Clark grinned at the reprieve the approaching figure of the Green Arrow presented. 

“No, just stopped to annoy Batman before his shift ends.” 

“I know you think you’re indestructible, but that sounds risky.” 

Clark laughed at Ollie’s statement before pulling away from the equipment. “You’re right about that, so I guess I’ll go home before he gets any ideas.” 

A farewell wave and Clark left, trying not to feel the intense eyes in a black cowl that followed him out. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

Clark let himself into his apartment via the balcony and was startled to see Lois setting two suitcases by the door. When he found his voice at last, she turned to face him at the one word he could squeeze out. 

“Lois?” 

“I’m sorry Clark, I can’t marry you.” 

Clark could only stare as he felt gravity pulling on him, like he had never learned to fly. 

“At first I was mad and embarrassed that I couldn’t see through your disguise, but I can live with that. What brought me over here to finish packing is something I can’t force you to live with. I can’t see you because Superman will always get in the way. You need someone to love you, and I think if you tie yourself to me, you will resent me for not being able to love all of you.” 

“Lois! I love you, just as you are. If I didn’t, I never would have told you about me!” 

“Superman loves everybody, even his enemies. Maybe you like me more because you rescue me more.” She held up a hand to stop the protest Clark was forming. “I know that’s not true, because I never thought you were an idiot. But I’ll think it, simply because I know I’m not your equal. Even at my most selfish, I know I’m not worthy of you.” 

“Worthy, Lois? How could you not consider yourself worthy of me?” 

“You have a kind and generous soul. You would give your life for a stranger. I wouldn’t, and that makes me unworthy.” 

Clark sputtered as his super fast mind tried to find the words to fight Lois’s statement. 

“I can’t share you, not even with the world that needs you. I don’t have any more love to give, and you deserve somebody who does.” 

_Stall._ Batman’s soft growl was a product of his mind, but Clark accepted his word of advice. “Lois, let me help you take your stuff to your apartment.” 

“No, Clark. You’ll just try and talk me out of my decision, and it’s only the two suitcases.” Lois walked to Clark for a hug and a farewell kiss. When she pulled away, Clark had to force himself to let her. “I’m leaving for that thing in France in the morning. I won’t be back until next week, so you don’t have to avoid me. It’s a small comfort, but I’ll never love anyone more than you.” 

Clark sped around her to pick up the suitcases. “I’ll take these to your apartment, so you don’t have to worry about getting them in a cab. When you change your mind, I’ll have all your stuff back over here before you can finish asking.” 

Lois gave him a sad look, doubtless to tell him she wouldn’t change her mind. Clark took off before she could speak so he didn’t have to hear it. The voice of his heart knew her too well for him to need to hear it. Once Lois made up her mind like this, she was determined, impossible to stop and never changed it back, which was part of what he loved about her. 

Dropping her suitcases off at her apartment, Superman took to the sky with a sonic boom. Opening his ears, Superman went looking for a fight. When he broke the jaw of a teenager selling dime bags of pot, Superman went looking for the control he had lost. Only one person was usually in more control than Superman, and he was in his cave preparing to go out for the night. 

Bruce reflexively glanced up as his alarms acknowledged his guest. Still in the armor he wore at the Watchtower, Bruce had the cowl down as he typed away on the computer. Clark landed behind him and absorbed the calmness for several minutes. The way his thumb jiggled the space bar showed Bruce was curious, but he didn’t ask why Clark was there. Clark considered he had told Bruce his birth name, but had never told it to Lois. Bruce still called him Clark, but he suspected that was Batman’s way of reminding him of his humanity. Clark tried not to sigh too heavily or get too emotional when he finally spoke; even as he knew he wouldn’t succeed. 

“Lois left me.” 

Bruce stopped typing as he looked at Clark’s reflection in the monitors, but didn’t say anything. 

“I love her, offered her all of me and she turned me down! Some rubbish about not being ‘worthy’ or loving enough! What am I supposed to do, spend the rest of my life looking for someone worthy? How do I define worthy, if Lois isn’t it? I don’t want to be alone!” 

Out of words, Clark stood behind Bruce and waited. Finally Bruce turned around to study Clark from his chair looking over steepled hands, like a villain in a Bond movie. 

“How do you know you can’t get drunk?” 

It took Clark a moment to process this change in topics and another moment to find a response. 

“I’ve drunk alcohol before, and it didn’t affect me. It’s like Earth poisons, it just doesn’t metabolize correctly for the desired effects.” 

“You process food; it just takes a lot to make you full. So maybe you need a similarly exaggerated quantity of alcohol to feel the effects.” Clark shrugged a confused look at Bruce, hoping the man would get to his point. “Basically, Clark, I’m asking if you have ever attempted to get drunk with Bruce Wayne’s credit limit.” 

“Not on my salary.” Something clicked in Clark’s emotionally bogged down mind and he snarled down at Bruce. “Do you really think getting drunk will fix things between me and Lois?” 

“No. Alcohol only makes things worse in the long run, but it dulls that first knife’s edge of heartbreak.” 

Clark was distracted by the sigh in the Batmobile a month ago, echoing around in his head. Maybe if he got Bruce drunk, he could get an explanation of that! Let the mystery of Bruce distract him from his problems for a while. 

“Fine, Bruce. I defer to your expertise, as usual. Let’s go upstairs and drink you out of house and home.” 

Turning away, Bruce was shaking his head as he reached for the phone. “Clark, I could own a distillery and still probably not have sufficient quantities on hand.” Now Bruce was speaking into the phone, and Clark let himself hear both sides of the conversation. “Alfred, Clark needs to borrow some civilian clothes.” 

“For which occasion, Master Bruce?” 

“We’re going out. Aruba sounds good.” 

“A tropical local, so I will provide you with appropriate attire as well. Unless you had planned on wearing the suit you have on now?” 

“No, I’ll be Brucie. I’ll need the usual assortment of things, a credit card with no limit and Clark might need to call in sick to work tomorrow.” 

“Understood sir.” 

“I’ll send Clark up and shower down here.” 

“Very good, sir.” Replacing the phone, Bruce looked expectantly at Clark. 

“You heard all that, so go find Alfred.” 

Clark blinked a couple of times before asking. “Aruba?” 

Bruce shrugged before standing. “I don’t speak Dutch.” 

Bruce was halfway to the changing area before Clark made the connection. Aruba was part of the Netherlands and the official language was Dutch. Most people probably spoke English for the tourist trade, but Bruce wouldn’t have to spend the night on high alert for what he might say. Clark considered that if he was having this much trouble thinking now, drinking probably wasn’t such a great idea. If he could get drunk, he qualified that thought. But what if he couldn’t? It would make Bruce feel like he had helped if nothing else, so Clark headed up to Alfred. 

The dignified man had hung some clothes neatly on the ornate wardrobe in Bruce’s bedroom. Any other day, and Clark would have laughed at the idea of Bruce owning the bright yellow, short sleeved shirt. It was silk and looked wonderful with dark brown linen pants hung next to it, but Clark still glanced from it to Alfred. 

“The shirt was a gift from an admirer. It did not have the desired effect, as she has not been seen in his company since. Master Bruce ordered me to dispose of it at the first opportunity, muttering about it needing to come with sunglasses.” Clark shook his head; this girl defiantly didn’t know the real Bruce! “Master Kent, you should find anything else you need in the bathroom. I will take some clothes down for Master Bruce, but you may call for me if you need anything.” 

“Thank you, Alfred.” 

The sharp look Alfred sent him told him that the older man had heard the sadness in Clark’s voice. Alfred bowed and left the room with clothes draped over his arm and Clark didn’t let himself listen in. He didn’t want to know if Bruce and Alfred were talking about him or the upcoming experiment with alcohol. A shower later and Clark pulled on the clothes Alfred had selected. He splashed a little bit of cologne on and made sure his Clark disguise was in place before returning to the cave. 

Bruce was testing his homemade watch, making sure the computers were picking up the signals it sent. Clark wasn’t sure off all of the features of the bat-watch but figured it would put most cell phones to shame. Bruce had on a dark blue, satin button up and black slacks. When they got to Aruba and Bruce put on his disguise, that dazzling smile and blatant stupidity, the world would only see Brucie. Very few people were privileged enough to see Bruce, and being in that number made Clark feel special. 

Clark rarely felt special, so maybe that was the problem with him and Lois. She thought he was too special for her, yet he hardly felt special or worthy of anybody when he wasn’t Superman. It was a confusing thought and had Clark frowning as Bruce turned to him. If he hadn’t been frowning and confused, Clark might have laughed at the grimace that crossed Bruce’s face when he turned to Clark. Bruce turned an accusatory look on Alfred. 

“I thought I asked you to destroy that thing?” 

“Dispose, Master Bruce. You asked that I ‘dispose of that monstrosity’ if memory serves. Keeping it for use in one of your disguises or a gift for a friend counts as disposal.” 

“Clark’s probably the only one I know whose cheerful enough to go around looking like a cartoon happy face, so he might as well keep it.” Bruce turned back to Clark with such visible emotion that Clark knew he was faking. “Wear it in good health Clark; just don’t ever let it brighten up my doorstep again. You’ll give the bats nightmares.” 

“Shouldn’t that be day-mares, Bruce?” Clark asked with as much curiosity as he could manage to pretend to feel. 

Bruce sent Clark the Bat-look™ as he adjusted himself to Clark’s broad back. Clark offered Alfred a friendly wave as they left and Clark flew slowly enough that they could talk. It wasn’t until they landed in a deserted alley in Aruba that Clark realized he hadn’t thought of Lois since Bruce looked away from the watch. 

Walking down the line of clubs and restaurants along the beach with Bruce, started relaxing a line of tension in Clark’s shoulders. They found a nice looking place and had supper, complete with exotic mixed drinks. When Clark had consumed enough to make the servers look at him funny, wondering why he wasn’t passed out yet, they moved on to the next place. Bruce didn’t try to keep up with Clark, only ordering to make it look like he was drinking some of what was on the table before them. 

Their sixth stop wasn’t a bar but a club. Looking pleasantly buzzed, Bruce had dragged Clark to the dance floor and a group of girls. They had danced with this group until Bruce had slipped away to a small table. Clark saw Bruce tip a waitress and a drink had appeared in Clark’s hand. Even as he danced, the drink kept getting refilled. It wasn’t the fruity drinks they had at supper; it had a much more alcoholic burn in his throat. The girls would sit down to rest or get a drink, but there always seemed to be a group around Clark. Was this Bruce’s way of telling him there were other fish in the sea? 

Even as Clark moved around the dance floor, he kept an eye on Bruce. He couldn’t remember his plan from earlier but he didn’t want Bruce to leave. Clark considered he might be starting to feel the effects of the alcohol, because time seemed to have lost fluidity. He saw Bruce sipping at something and then a man and woman had joined Bruce at the small table. Next time Clark looked that way, the woman was in Bruce’s lap and whispering in his ear. Figuring Bruce wasn’t bored yet, Clark drained his glass. Clark tried to see who was refilling the glass, but his senses chose that moment to start misbehaving. 

His eyes and ears started changing focus, seeing the club in microscopic detail while listening in on a business deal in Ireland, before instantly switching destinations. Clark stopped dancing long enough to touch his powers, looking for any sign that he was losing control of them. They actually seemed repressed, like they were too drunk to work for anything less than a planet-wide emergency. 

As Clark started dancing and drinking again, it occurred to him that he should tell Bruce about this. Bruce probably only come on this trip, instead of just giving Clark the credit card, to make sure Clark wouldn’t lose control of his powers in public. Bruce probably had a chunk of Kryptonite in the fancy watch of his. Clark turned to the table, only to have to look around the rest of the club. Bruce wasn’t at the table, the bar or the dance floor. It was harder to make his whirling senses behave than it had been when he first developed them, but he scanned the club for Bruce. 

He thought he found Bruce, but when it penetrated his dulled mind what the body was doing, Clark had changed his mind. That wasn’t Bruce; Clark was officially drunk and needed to sober up. Dancing would help metabolize the alcohol out of his system, so Clark returned his focus to that activity. He wasn’t aware of it, but he kept drinking from his never ending glass of liquor. 

The image from the backroom refused to be danced away, popping back up at odd moments. A guy, another guy, and a girl had been close together and upright, but doing something far more intimate than dancing. His senses had said Bruce was in the middle, but his senses had to be drunk and wrong. There had been a woman on Bruce’s lap and that’s where he had disappeared to. 

Clark’s normally useful photographic memory chose that moment to show him an image of a grinning man watching the woman flirt with Bruce. Clark tossed back a full glass at that image and saw something dark out of the corner of his eye. Looking that way, Clark grinned at Bruce, who was back at the table and sipping a drink. Clark was drunk, but Bruce was watching him and everything would be fine. 

At some point, Clark went to take a sip from his glass and it was empty. Looking around in drunken confusion, Clark realized Bruce was the only one still dancing with him. Bruce saw Clark looking and stopped moving. The music suddenly stopped and bright lights filled the club. Clark and Bruce matched each other’s pained expression at the unexpected light. 

“Come on, babe.” Bruce’s words slurred with drink, but he was still in character if he was calling Clark by anything other than his name. Happily drunk, Clark grinned his appreciation of his friend’s skill and dedication as Bruce put his arm around Clark. “Let’s go find someplace to sleep this off.” 

“I wanna dance Bruce.” Clark tried to protest but was having trouble understanding his own words. “Kararaoke! Bruce, I wanna hear you sing!” 

Bruce was steering, talking about having bribed the staff to leave the place upon this long. For no reason he could name, Clark wanted spam. He started to mention this, but found himself singing the _Spam_ song from Monty Python. Bruce started muttering, so Clark started singing Bruce in place of the word spam. Clark found this so amusing, he sang while Bruce found and checked them into a neat but tiny hotel. It was only two stories and lacked an elevator, but was so full they had to share a room. Clark didn’t care until Bruce told him he had to stop singing. 

“Calm down, Clark. It’s four in the morning, and even in Aruba people like to sleep at night.” 

“OK, let’s go to Japan, the night’s just starting there.” Clark thought that was a reasonable response. When one party ends, move on to the next. 

“You’re too drunk to fly, and I need sleep.” 

“Com’ on, Bucie. I wanna sing!” 

Bruce sighed and looked at Clark for a long moment. Finally he spoke in a gentle, seductive voice. “Earlier, you said you wanted to hear me sing. If you take off your clothes and lie on the bed, I’ll sing you to sleep.” 

“Beautiful idea, in a beautiful voice.” Clark tried to comply but his super-speed didn’t respond. As he wobbled, Bruce had to help him pull off his pants. Clark hooked a thumb into the waistband of his underwear but Bruce was leading him to the bed. Clark flopped onto his belly, not needing to worry about pulling the covers over him. He grinned into the thin pillow, thinking about Lois. She liked to massage his shoulders and back, said it worked the typing cramps out of her hands. 

“A massage, huh?” Bruce’s question caused Clark to consider he might have said that out loud and allowed him to ignore the strange way Bruce sounded when he replied. The Bruce/Spam song was contagious, as Clark heard his voice start singing it again. “Fine! A massage it is then!” 

The bed creaked as Bruce straddled Clark’s legs and dug skilled hands into steely muscles. With a heavy sigh, words came out of Bruce. “There have been many sightings of love.” 

“Sing me to Bruce, or I’m Tokyo!” Clark grumbled in a loud voice. He wanted music and laughter and dancing, not stodgy dissertations on love. The growl that responded seemed to be considering letting him fly to Tokyo, but Bruce cleared his throat and tried again. This time the line was a lyric from a rock song, sung in a soft voice so as not to disturb the neighbors. 

_There have been many sightings_  
_Of love, in truth_  
_The skeptic in me longs for_  
_To see, of love, some proof_

Clark was giggling into the pillow. Trust Bruce to know a song about skepticism and the need for proof! There was a moment of silence from Bruce, but he continued like he wasn’t concerned with Clark’s giggles. 

_Love is not real_  
_Love is a hoax_  
_It's just a dream_  
_I've had so many nights alone_  
_Love is not here_  
_Love is somewhere else_  
_It's somewhere far_  
_No man I've ever known's_  
_Come close_

The giggles were gone now and Clark was frowning into the pillow. Was this Bruce’s version of cheerful? Love is fake and nobody will ever find it, so don’t be so hard on yourself that you couldn’t make a go of it with Lois. Or was it just a meaningless chorus to a random song Bruce liked? Clark knew he was really drunk when that thought came; Bruce had a reason for everything he did. 

_It can be vicious, heartless,_  
_Dire and cruel_  
_In spite of my mind, my heart longs_  
_To find, fire and fuel_

Bruce hummed something, then slipped into the depressing chorus again. After the chorus, Clark thought Bruce started a new song or another poem. 

_My girlfriend doesn't want to know me_  
_And my friends think I've lost the plot_  
_I have become a liability_

Clark could hear genuine emotion in Bruce’s voice and wished he was sober enough to understand it. 

_I’ve got to do something_  
_But I don't know what_

Clark turned his head to tell Bruce something, but warm hands nudged his head back so Bruce could massage his neck. He was going to tell Bruce that he always knew what to do, but a drunk Clark was easily distracted. 

_I'm hearing voices and_  
_I can't see straight_  
_I think I might be going insane_  
_Can't make my own decisions_  
_And I just can't wait_  
_To mess it all up again_  
_I never thought that_  
_I would succeed_  
_Beyond the wildest dreams_  
_I've ever dreamt_  
_But everything's become so_  
_Hackneyed_  
_Familiarity only breeds contempt_  
_I'm ruining your life_

Bruce’s hand’s dug into Clark’s flesh with extra force at these words. It didn’t hurt, but it got Clark’s attention. 

_I'm bored with mine_  
_I'm acting like I couldn't care less_  
_Another bottle and another line_  
_Another stranger to undress_

Bruce sounded so sad that he had lines of strangers waiting to have sex with him. Clark twisted under Bruce, he had something to say. But with his mind and body dulled, Clark was easily subdued by a Bruce who wanted him to sleep. Faking acceptance, Clark remained still and absorbed Bruce’s words to consider later. Maybe, hopefully, the alcohol was already metabolizing out of his system. 

_When you forget_  
_What you cannot forgive_  
_The terms are so much easier to_  
_Come to with_  
_When we look at what_  
_We're going through_  
_And desaturate_  
_Until everything is simple_  
_Love or hate_  
_Love or hate_  
_I’ve been searching my soul_  
_I've seen the brightest star_  
_I've seen the blackest hole_  
_I've found a way to cope with every_  
_Twist of fate_  
_Now everything is simple_  
_Love or hate_  
_Love or hate_  
_Next time you stab me in the back_  
_You'd better do it to my face_

_And when that love comes crawling_  
_Back to me, to say_  
_I've been away_  
_Now please let me stay with thee_  
_No way!_

Clark blinked against the whiteness of the pillow as he realized this was still the same song Bruce had started with. It was kind of long to memorize if it didn’t hold any special meaning, especially for a person who had a reason for everything he did. Long song, but with short verses, Clark mused as Bruce found the chorus again. 

_Love is not here_  
_Love is somewhere else_  
_It's just a dream_  
_I've had so many night's alone_  
_Love is not here_  
_Love is somewhere else_  
_It's somewhere far_  
_No man I've ever known's_  
_Come close!_

Bruce stilled his voice and hands, waiting on a response. Clark was still and could feel sleep pulling on him. He had to stay awake, force himself to get sober and figure out the message Bruce was sending him. When Bruce moved off of him, it woke Clark. He listened as Bruce walked to the bathroom and took of his clothes. The shower started and Clark reviewed the beginning of the song. 

A skeptic who needed proof of love, so the song could have been written about Bruce. But in spite of his mind, his heart wanted to risk it, which didn’t sound like Bruce. A new sound from the bathroom caught Clark’s attention. Already his body was processing the alcohol as focusing his senses was getting easier. When he identified the sound in the bathroom, Clark giggled again. Even Batman wasn’t immune to the sight of all that flesh bouncing around the dance floor! Distracted from his thoughts, Clark fell asleep listening to Bruce masturbate in the shower. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

Clark took two sick days and a trip to the sun before he felt recovered from that night. He had a hard time understanding why some humans did that as often as they could when it felt so bad the next day. Bruce hadn’t been as bad off, but he knew his limits. He had seemed cold and distant when Clark returned them to the cave, but Clark blamed the hangover. Clark’s memory of that night was fuzzy but he hoped he’d never feel the need to get that drunk again. Even as he thought about that night a few weeks later, he still felt like he was missing something important. Clark shook it off as he made his way to the weekly JL meeting; he had more urgent matters to attend to. 

The JL members greeted each other and stood around talking for a while. Clark was suddenly aware of how long he had been standing around, so he checked the wall clock. Twelve minutes after the official meeting time, twelve minutes after Batman should have brought them to order with his presence. Guessing he wasn’t coming, Superman went to his seat. The others saw his move and copied it, opening the folders in front of their seats. 

Clark read the paper inside the folder a third time before looking up. A shift of his eyes showed the other’s papers. They had the same typed words, but his was the only one with a personal note. Under the words ‘I am resigning from my consulting position with the Justice League, Batman’ was a poem. 

_Well, goodbye my friend it was good to know you,_  
_I hope you understand,_  
_Twenty-one years and I ain't got nothing,_  
_But sitting, wondering if I can,_  
_Wishing and dreaming, Hoping and reaching,_  
_For things I was never meant to have,_  
_If my foolish life's a product of my gross misconceptions,_  
_Who's gonna give a damn?_

Clark looked up from the letter to see the JL staring back at him. “Unless anybody has anything really pressing, I move we skip this meeting.” 

Nobody objected, so Clark pulled the letter to him and stood. “Dismissed.” 

When his calls, emails, and texts were not answered in twenty minutes, Clark made his way to Gotham. It was daylight, so he had to track down Brucie. In his ill fitting Clark suit, Superman stalked Brucie for the rest of the day and Bruce knew it. That was the only reason he suddenly seemed to go everywhere with a group of people he normally ditched at the first chance. When Brucie finally left that evening’s get together with a drunken weave he somehow managed to send a text. 

**Leave off. I have reasons. B.**

_Share, or I stalk. C. Kent._

**Until emergency distracts. BYE. B.**

_I give a damn! C. Kent._

Clark watched as a completely sober Bruce read this last text in the backseat of his limo. He was still in downtown Gotham, but Batman didn’t let any emotions escape from his face. By the time Brucie disappeared into Wayne Manor and Batman emerged onto the road, Clark figured he wasn’t getting a response. He wasn’t giving up on figuring this out, but Clark decided to let the man have some time to brood. Coincidently, it would also give Clark time to brood on Bruce. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

Four months had passed since Lois broke up with him, and Clark felt like he was beginning to get over it. Strange as that thought was, considering how much he still loved her, Clark had accepted that life went on. Work was still strained, as him and Lois tried to reestablish their professional relationship but they would get there. Until they did, Clark had his work, at the _Planet_ and around the globe, the JL, and the mystery of an annoying, rabid, demented, anal retentive flying mammal from Gotham. 

Batman had made good his disassociation with the JL, not returning any message unless it was case related. Even then his messages were prerecorded or typed unless it was an emergency. Clark had made several attempts to talk to Bruce, but Brucie had a new fondness for crowds. An attempt to corner or interrupt Batman’s work would have been met with silence and Kryptonite, so Clark hadn’t resorted to that yet. 

“Clark?” The soft voice in his ear slowly brought Clark out of his thoughts. Lois was no longer sitting on her desk, facing Clark. Instead she was perched on his desk and leaning over to whisper in his ear. Clark wondered how long she had been trying to get his attention, and then was curious why desire hadn’t alerted him to her proximity. 

“Yes Lois?” 

“Ah, you hear me at last.” Lois smiled as she fluttered her eyes at him before leaning in to whisper some more. “If you don’t stop that humming, Superman or not, I will find a way to hurt you with office supplies!” 

Clark turned astonished eyes to Lois, whose face was now clearly annoyed. 

“Don’t, Smallville! You’ve been humming those same two lines since I got back from France and it is really grating on my nerves. So you don’t get to deny that you’re humming.” 

“I’m sorry, Lois! I honestly didn’t realize I was.” Clark was more confused than he wanted to show her, he was usually hyperaware of himself so he didn’t accidently hurt somebody. Clark didn’t want to think of the ramifications of being that far out of it, so he asked a question to distract them both. “What have I been humming?” 

Lois gave him a new glare, but hummed at him. Clark froze so his shock wouldn’t show on his face, but Lois knew him too well. The investigator in her took over and Clark really hated having that intensity focused on him. “So just where have you heard that little snippet of music?” 

“I have great hearing, you know. I can hear all sorts of music.” 

“Interesting, because I never thought you were hanging out in the atmosphere to pick up free satellite radio.” Lois’s intensity didn’t wavier and Clark knew he wasn’t getting away that easily. 

“When you broke up with me, a friend took me out to get drunk.” The words came out in a rush, because it still hurt Clark to say them. Lois sent him an apologetic shrug, but waited for him to continue. “I’ve never been drunk before, didn’t even know I could. I wanted to sing, dance, and party forever. In order to calm me down, he sang to me. I guess that’s just a snippet of the song he sang.” 

“You guess?” 

“I was drunk!” And loud, he realized as people turned to stare at him. 

“So you don’t remember the actual words or the rest of the song, anything to get you off the broken record routine?” 

Clark brought up the memory of that night, Bruce massaging him as he sang. He could hear Bruce’s soft voice, and remember his own reactions. He had lain there, processing the alcohol, and had felt the words were meaningful. Sober, Clark had shoved those silly thoughts away, but what if he had been right? “It’s strange, now that you mention it Lois. He knew every word to that song, and it was a long one. Even then I thought the verses were short, but after one of the verses he hummed those two lines at me.” 

“What’s the likelihood that this friend simply didn’t remember those two lines? Even professional musicians sometimes forget the words.” 

“Slim to none, his memory is almost as good as mine.” 

“Is he the kind who can tell you what he’s feeling?” 

“Not without truth serum, a confidentiality agreement, and a near death experience.” Clark slapped the heel of his hand to his forehead, unable to remember when he had felt more foolish. “Which means the words he didn’t say were the most important! I thought the rest of the song described him and he had emotionally responded to the music. I missed that what he believed the most was the bit he couldn’t bring himself to admit to.” 

Clark leaned into the computer, opened a new webpage and stopped. Where to begin? Brucie, classic and dance music, Batman, sounds of pain, so what was Bruce’s musical taste? His wonderful photographic memory reminded him of that night so long ago, when Superman had overheard the inner workings of the Bat-mobile. Googling Meat Loaf lyrics, Clark scrolled through them as fast as they would load. 

Lois was looking, but she didn’t see much until Clark paused on a song. Did you ever love somebody, the words asked, somebody who never knew? On the track listing for the same album, Clark saw _Love is Not Real_ and almost trembled as he clicked on it. With all the lines before him, Clark could see the ones Bruce couldn’t risk saying. 

_Only for you does this happen_  
_Only for you do I care_

Or maybe it was this version. 

_Only for you do I do this_  
_Only for you do I care_

But, Bruce could have anybody. 

_Never again will I do this_  
_Never again will I care_

The words fit the little tune Bruce and then Lois had hummed at Clark, the tune he had been humming in a desperate need to understand. Lois rested a soft hand on Clark’s shoulder, making him wonder how long he had been staring at the screen. 

“I know better than to ask which friend took you out to get drunk, because if it was somebody from this life you’d have told me. So I really shouldn’t speculate on what he was trying to say, but the lyrics here make me think he’s in love with you.” 

“Lois, I don’t… He never… But this?” Clark stopped trying when he realized his thoughts were moving too fast to make coherent sentences. Lois gave a small laugh beside him and Clark turned to look in her eyes. 

“Clark, it’s Monday, and you’ve caught up with the weekend news. I suggest you take off early and go find out what he meant by this.” 

Clark shook his head at her as he replied. “Context. With him the context has to be important, and I need to make sure I understand this completely before I say anything.” 

With a shrug, Lois walked back to her desk. Clark plugged in his headphones and downloaded the entire album to listen to. When the last note had faded away, Clark exited out of his computer and numbly found his way to the stairs without another word. From the roof it was a quick change of clothes and he was on his way to Gotham. Listening for a familiar heartbeat, Clark found Bruce leaving Gotham. He was reading his laptop in the back of a limo. An x-ray glance at the driver showed that it wasn’t Alfred and presented Clark with a fully formed plan. 

After checking road conditions, Clark focused his heat vision to put a tiny hole in the back tire of the limo. Hiding out of human eyesight, Clark watched as the tire slowly went flat and the limo pulled over to the side of the road. The scrawny, young driver emerged to frown down at the tire. Bruce got out before the driver could decide what to do, and the driver flushed as he apologized. 

“I’m so sorry Mister Wayne! I must have run over a nail or something, the tires were fine when I checked the car before taking it out of the garage.” 

“It’s ok Kyle, that’s why there’s a spare in the trunk.” 

“Right! I’ll change it and we’ll be out of here in a jiffy!” Kyle moved toward the trunk, only to stop, turn around and head for the driver’s door. A button on the driver’s door opened the trunk while Bruce pulled off his suit jacket and tie. Kyle was having trouble getting the tire out, so Bruce strolled back to help as best he could in his Brucie disguise. 

“Have you ever changed a flat tire before, Kyle?” 

“Just on the clunkers I could afford.” 

“Well, I think I overheard Alfred say once that there was a key to getting the spare out of these limos.” 

“A key?” 

“He might have meant a tool or something.” 

Brucie helped look around but eventually managed to find the hexagonal tool. Working together, they figured out how to use it to free the spare and the jack. Another piece of overheard advice that Brucie offered was to put the jack on the metal frame of the car instead of the aluminum of the side panels. Once the car was in the air, Kyle went to work on the lug nuts. Clark thought he could hear the lug nuts laughing at skinny Kyle’s attempts to move them. Clark grinned at that as he made his move before Brucie ‘accidently’ found the muscles to move the lug nuts. Bruce could have had the tire changed by this point, but his disguise was holding him back. Help arrived from the sky with a jovial voice. 

“Afternoon gentlemen!” Kyle turned to stare at Superman with astonishment, while Bruce sent him suspicious, narrowed eyes. “Maybe I can help you change that tire? They use machines to get them on, and often tighten them too tight to get off without another machine.” 

Clark landed and waited for permission before starting to work. A significant glance at Kyle brought Brucie back to Bruce’s face and voice. “Well sure, Superman! These tires don’t change themselves, though if I find the nail that damaged the tire I might be forced to hurt it.” This was said in Brucie’s clueless voice, but Clark still believed the words were a threat. “Before entertaining some friends, I have an excellent supper waiting for me to get home.” 

“Why Mister Wayne, is that an offer for a meal?” Clark made this an idle comment as he moved between them toward the tire. If this caused Bruce to see Kyle before he responded, so much the better. 

“If no emergency distracts you, naturally I’d love the chance to talk to you! It must be wonderful to be you, all those special powers, all those people to rescue all the time.” Clark made sure only the lug nuts could see his grin at Brucie’s response. Still in character, Bruce was trying to tell him to go away and save people. Batman would tell him that point blank, but in front of other people, Brucie had a reputation to maintain. “Besides, I don’t know what Alfred made, might be leftovers.” 

“Don’t you worry, Superman,” Kyle broke in before Clark could reply. “Alfred is the best cook in the world! Even his leftovers are something I’d pay for in a restaurant! On Mondays, the whole Manor gets cleaned and they bring in tons of people to help. Alfred lets everybody eat whatever they want from the kitchens during lunch, so there aren’t any leftovers. When you share Mister Wayne’s supper, you get a gourmet meal, no doubt!” 

“Sounds delicious. Well, your tire is fixed, let me just put the flat one in the trunk and you can be on your way.” A friendly smile and Kyle was speaking again, oblivious to the barely hidden annoyance of his employer. 

“Have you ever ridden in a limo, Superman? Since you’re going to the Manor for supper you might as well get to ride with us. I’ve been in a lot of expensive cars, but this is one of the smoothest rides I’ve ever driven!” Clark closed the trunk and looked at Kyle. That comment didn’t match with Kyle’s earlier statement about having owned clunkers, but Clark’s detailed scan was appropriate to his ‘interested’ face. 

“No, I’ve never been in a limo. I normally fly, but bet this would be wonderful to ride in.” The prison tattoo on Kyle’s neck, hidden by his hair confirmed a few things for Clark. 

Batman had probably caught Kyle stealing cars and Brucie had offered the young man a second chance. Turning a car thief into a chauffeur was a very Bruce idea of rehabilitation. Kyle held the door open and Bruce shot Clark and angry look as he got in. The door stayed open, so it would have been rude of Superman to not follow Bruce in. In the time it took Kyle to close the door and get into the driver’s seat, Bruce could only hiss at Clark. 

“Find an excuse, I’m not feeding you.” 

Clark grinned at Brucie and asked about the features of the limo, except the switch that would close the divider between them and Kyle. Bruce’s secrets would only work to get Clark what he wanted as long as there were other people to observe. And if at some point, Alfred had mentioned that Monday was the day for a thorough cleaning, Batman should be proud of Clark for using that tidbit of knowledge to his advantage. 

The limo pulled up to the front door, where another ex-con was startled as he let Superman out of the limo. Brucie gushed enthusiastically as he showed off his house to Superman. Clark cheated with his x-ray vision and made sure to stay near other people until Alfred lead them both into a dining room. Kyle helped, in that as soon as he parked the limo he told the entire household exactly what had happened. 

People made up excuses to be near him, and forced Bruce to keep up the disguise. Clark felt bad for using his fans this way, but knew it was necessary to fix things with Bruce. They worked well together, helping more people than they could alone. As Batman had said, sometimes the ends did justify the means. The maid eventually couldn’t pretend to be setting the table any longer and had to leave the room. Bruce’s anger surfaced and Clark grinned into it. 

“Get out.” 

“How would it look if I left now?” 

“I’ll find an emergency, they’ll believe.” 

“You offered me supper! Do you want me to tell Alfred you reneged?” 

“I didn’t offer, you accepted. Take a doggie bag.” The offer of a doggie bag was in Brucie’s voice as a blushing waiter brought in their supper. “Yeah, a meal shouldn’t distract you if you are needed or something.” 

Clark cocked his ear and pretended to listen while the waiter served him. “No, the local authorities have it well in hand. I don’t like to interfere where I’m not wanted.” 

“Really? With your gifts you could go anywhere and nobody could stop you. You could dine with famous people every night, and they’d pay for it!” Clark caught the threat in Bruce’s last three words, even if the retreating waiter didn’t. 

“You know, I’m not stupid.” Clark replied in his version of the Brucie tone, clueless and light. 

“No, just annoying, presumptuous, and rude.” Batman’s growl made Clark hope for more witnesses. None were coming, so Clark lowered his head and threatened back. 

“I can think of legitimate excuses for Superman to start hanging out with Brucie.” 

“What?” 

“I think I’ll come over every Monday, for supper and movies.” With a smirk showing he knew he’d hit a nerve, Clark went back to his ‘Clarkie’ voice. “I’ll get to know your day staff, and they’ll hang out with us, all night long.” 

“Why?” Bruce’s shrimp scampi was now mush under the grinding of his fork, even as Clark talked around mouthfuls of his. 

“Eventually, you’ll go so crazy, you’ll have to talk to me.” 

“We talk.” 

“About business, and orders don’t count.” Clark shifted as the waiter returned to touch up their glasses and wordlessly offer them seconds. Clark grinned as he accepted the helping and switched conversations again. “The only orders that matter are decided upon by a committee and vote by the JL members. We want to help all humanity, not just an individual country.” 

“So why are your headquarters in New York? And aren’t most of your members Americans?” Bruce replied around a mouthful of mush, as if he wasn’t even listening to his own words. 

“The UN is also in New York, so we can talk to representatives of all nations much quicker.” 

“What’s the UN?” The waiter shot Brucie a look of incredulity as he left the room. Clearly he wanted to know why money was wasted on the moronic. Batman emerged the instant the door closed behind the befuddled waiter. “What else do we have to talk about?” 

“Tell me anything. Tell me who you have the hots for.” Clark kept his words in the same idle voice he had used in the Watchtower so long ago, but added a threat. “And Bruce? Remember that I’ll know if you lie.” 

_“You always pictured me laughing in the arms of others. What kind of man do you think I am?”_ Bruce sighed and rubbed at his head. _“Damned if you don’t, damned if you do.”_

Now that Clark knew the code, knew what to listen for, he still couldn’t believe this confirmation of what Lois said. The words in the middle, the ones Bruce couldn’t say were the ones Clark needed to hear. _We were just good friends, but we dreamed we could be lovers._ How long had Bruce felt this way, and been unable to say anything? 

Clark’s mind went back to the bar in Aruba and an image of Bruce at the table. A tall blonde woman was in his lap, her boyfriend grinning behind them. He was dark headed and heavily muscled, and if he had stood behind Bruce in that back room, his face wouldn’t have mattered. Bruce went with the couple because he could pretend the man was Clark. Bruce’s need for release in the shower wasn’t from the press of bodies on the dance floor, but from straddling Clark and massaging him. 

Bruce wasn’t having a hard time finding somebody to love, he knew who he loved, he just thought heterosexual Clark was off limits. All it took was a coded admission of love to make Clark realize he wasn’t off limits, and actually interested. Bruce was all the things Lois claimed she wasn’t, special and worthy. Bruce would lay down his life for a stranger, and risked doing that on a nightly basis. He had loved Bruce for a while; sex simply hadn’t been part of the picture because Clark hadn’t thought about it. Bruce could have mentioned it at anytime, but if he had, he wouldn’t have been Bruce. 

“Clark? What’s the grin about?” There was some hesitancy in Bruce’s voice and suspicion in his eyes as he pulled Clark away from his thoughts. 

“Next course.” Clark replied calmly, as the door opened. Bruce wasn’t sure of that explanation but pulled Brucie back on. 

“Sirs.” Alfred began in a formal tone, so that Bruce kept his disguise of civility in place. “I would like to take this opportunity to inform you that the entire staff is prolonging departure in the hopes of seeing Superman once again. The bus driver has even been pulled into this festive occasion.” 

Clark laughed and turned to Bruce. “You bus your staff out here and back?” 

“Security.” Bruce shrugged and Clark knew it wasn’t the whole reason. 

Bruce was paranoid but had other options at his disposal. They were probably all ex-cons or people in desperate need of jobs, people who might not have reliable transportation to get them out here. The bus meant more of his money went into their pockets where it was needed. Logical and kind, the strange combination that was Bruce. His Bruce, soon. 

“Knock it off with that grin, Clark.” 

“Sirs, if I might suggest?” Carefully hiding his grin, Clark turned to Alfred. “If Superman was to say a proper goodbye, they would leave and he could return for dessert. Almond tiramisu, or ice cream if you prefer.” 

“Brucie, why don’t we go say goodbye, and then I’ll come back for Alfred’s tiramisu.” Bruce sighed heavily, but stood. Clark followed him out, secure in the idea that Alfred expected him. Bruce couldn’t kick him out now without a news worthy emergency, because Bruce didn’t want to disappoint Alfred. Before Clark could feel bad about using Alfred, it occurred to him that Alfred probably expected this. Alfred knew what Clark was up to and approved, that’s why he came in with the plan instead of sending one of the eager wait staff! 

Clark took his time seeing the staff off on the bus, just because it irritated Bruce. Agitate the master of control, get his emotions so stirred up he couldn’t help but fall into Clark’s trap. First Clark’s trap, and then his arms. Clark glanced at Bruce at that thought and Bruce took half a step back at that grin. Superman carefully modified it before turning back to the crowd. They probably wouldn’t have understood that grin like Bruce did, because nobody knew Superman like Bruce, but he still had to be careful. After the bus pulled away, Alfred led them to the parlor for tiramisu and coffee. Clark settled into the large chair, leaving Bruce the couch. After serving, Alfred made a discrete withdrawal and they were alone at last. 

“We ate, we talked. Finish your dessert and go home.” Bruce nibbled on a forkful as he ordered Clark out. Clark left his untouched, knowing Alfred would expect to see it eaten before he accepted Clark had left voluntarily. 

“I’m not done talking.” Pulling up Clark’s innocence felt strange in Superman’s clothes, but he didn’t want Bruce to see through his scheme. “With all those people around, I didn’t have a chance to say what I came here for.” 

“Don’t try and talk me into rejoining the League, I have enough to do here.” Bruce glared pointedly at Clark’s tiramisu. 

“Not about them, about you. You are an excellent ninja.” That got Bruce looking at Clark, like he thought Clark was insane, but he was looking. _“I never saw you coming, until you came. And here you are! I never thought someone would ever dare to come this far.”_

Bruce dropped his fork with a clang and made to stand up. Superman sped over and straddled Bruce’s legs, forcing him to sit back down. Bruce’s heart started hammering in his chest as Clark grinned down at him, hands on the couch, not touching Bruce’s shoulders. _“You’re up for the resistance, and I’m strong in my persistence.”_

“What are you talking about?” The Bat-growl lost effectiveness when Bruce’s eyes were dilating with desire, Clark was pleased to note. 

“I broke your code, Batman, and you can’t get rid of me now!” 

“What code?” And that comment came from Bruce, a terrified Bruce who was almost panicking because he knew what Clark was talking about. The resurgence of the grin that had been bothering Bruce didn’t help. 

“Your musical code, Bruce, the one where you told me you wanted me.” Bruce’s eyes lost focus as he tried to find words to deny Clark’s words. _“Tell me you’d like me to stay for a while.”_

Bruce licked his lips and opened his mouth, but Clark didn’t want to hear the lie he could see in Bruce’s eyes when his body was screaming the truth. If the man could only speak in codes, Clark would have to do the same, but his way. Clark moved his hands to gently hold Bruce’s head and turned it at the proper angle for a kiss. Leaning in, Clark stopped before their lips could meet to sing at Bruce. 

_Tried, God knows we tried_  
_Taking our sides_  
_And played it so safe_  
_Maybe our hearts could heal or break_  
_This could go either way_  
_Let's be in love_  
_Let's be in love_  
_Let's go upstairs till we've both had enough_  
_There's no tomorrow_  
_Or yesterday o my my_  
_Let's be in love tonight_  
_Let's close the door_  
_Let's be indiscreet_  
_Let's be the flesh and the sweat on the sheets_  
_Let's fill the darkness with passion and grace_  
_Let's leave a mark that will never erase_  
_God knows what we'll be by the morning light_  
_Now come on over here_  
_Let's be in love tonight_

Clark stopped singing, released Bruce’s head and waited. It was difficult to not pull Bruce to him and make him admit to his feelings. Bruce’s body was calling out for Clark to do just that, but Clark knew better. If Clark gave in, Bruce would have sex with him here and now, and toss him out on his ear the minute they were done. 

Clark could have had anonymous sex with strangers, without fear of disease, but he had never wanted that. He wanted what Bruce wanted, completeness and love. Bruce had to admit to this, or sex would be all they had, so Clark waited. The husky, lust filled voice that finally emerged from Bruce was nothing like his other voices and captivated Clark. 

“You’d better not be under a spell.” Bruce informed him before leaning in to kiss him. Having admitted he wanted Clark, Bruce wasn’t to be deterred. Large hands were stripping off the skintight suit and rubbing flesh as the kiss began to involve tongues. 

Clark felt drunk again, as time stopped working. He groaned his disappointment when Bruce broke off the kiss, only to find he was on the couch, naked, on his back and Bruce was on his cock. Bruce attacked the blow job with an enthusiasm that surprised Clark. 

“Bruce!” Clark started to say something, only to find time had shifted on him again. The words had vanished at the thought of it being Bruce doing this to him, the name almost as beautiful as the man it belonged to. “Bruce, Bruce, Bru..” 

Clark stopped when Bruce did, each moving to look the other in the face. Bruce’s lips were slightly swollen and stretched, wonderfully moist in the light as he spoke. “Clark, if you start the _Spam_ song again, I’ll stop what I’m doing.” 

“Please no, Bruce! God, please keep going and I’ll shut up!” 

Bruce kept his eyes up but moved him mouth back to Clark’s penis. His tongue was doing something exotic to the underside, even as his mouth took in more of Clark’s cock. Clark had to say something, had to tell Bruce how much he loved him and how special they were together, but he didn’t want Bruce to stop for any reason. The need to speak increased as Clark got nearer to release, until he had to tell Bruce how he felt, but cheated and spoke in lyrics. 

_If I can't have you_  
_I don't wanna be me_  
_Then I would be the same man_  
_You scraped off the ground_  
_I'd have to go back bein'_  
_That broken soul you found_  
_Those days are in the darkness_  
_I buried them with hardness_  
_And I'd have to dig those_  
_Demons out_  
_Your life is like anchor that puts_  
_Me in my place_  
_No you won't let me sink when_  
_I'm off losing_

Clark lost it, surrendering to the skill of the man making love to him. For a long moment, Clark held onto the bliss, but it slipped away as it had to. Bruce had moved up to nibble on Clark’s nipples, apparently trying to get Clark aroused again. Clark could and would be up for that anytime Bruce wanted, but now he had to figure out what to do with the hardness he found in between Bruce’s legs. Coming off the couch, Clark sat Bruce up on the back of it and looked at him for a moment. 

“Bruce, I’ve never done this before, so you’ll just have to grin and bear it.” 

Bruce’s heart hitched at the thought he was Clark’s first, even as Clark moved to Bruce’s cock. Clark tasted, licked, sucked a little, while slowly taking in more of Bruce, looking for what made Bruce moan. Clark could tell Bruce was close, from the pounding of his heart and the steady trembling of the body under Clark’s caressing hands. Clark took the last of Bruce into his mouth and called out to him around that hardness. “Bruce!” 

Warm liquid splashed down Clark’s throat as Bruce shook under his hands. While Bruce softened, Clark lowered them both to lie together on the couch. Clark was considering falling asleep right there, he figured he’d sleep like a baby. But Bruce had to spoil the moment by being, well, Bruce. 

“You’re not under a spell or some new form of Kryptonite, are you?” Clark rolled his eyes and found that was all the maneuvering room he had, what with two muscular men on a couch. Lifting up and rolling over, he was above Bruce but not touching him, all the better to stare into Bruce’s baby blues while talking. 

“I love you, Bruce. I have for a while, I just didn’t know I could have this as well.” Crossing his arms and glaring down at Bruce, Clark made his final point. “You could have suggested it at anytime.” 

_“If I had only told the truth?”_ Bruce seemed doubtful. 

_“I could never trust you to.”_ Clark sang back, grinning at their strange duet. 

_“You’ll survive.”_ Bruce snapped the words back at him, but they lacked bite coming from a half naked man. Clark frowned down at Bruce at that. 

“How did this happen? I’m buck naked and you’re still wearing pants and a shirt, unbuttoned though they may be.” 

“Your superpowers don’t include undressing other people?” 

“And yours do?” Clark didn’t like the smirk he got in response to that. Something akin to jealousy screamed in his head that Bruce had better not be using that power on anybody else! This must have shown in Clark’s face, as Bruce reached out to touch what gravity was dangling toward him. A single stroke and a husky reply had blood rerouting to emphasize what gravity was pulling on. 

“All the important bits were available.” 

Clark sent Bruce a lustful look of his own. It was a new expression for Clark, very much like the grin he’d been using on Bruce all night. “Not all.” 

“Enough for the sitting room, which Alfred is waiting to clean.” 

Clark pulled up his x-ray to find Alfred, terrified the man would catch them like this. He was very relieved to see Alfred puttering around the kitchen, several rooms away. Half of Bruce’s mouth was grinning, apparently at Clark’s evident discomfort. 

“Eat your dessert dish and we’ll go somewhere more conducive to the activities you’ve developed a sudden interest in.” 

Clark considered Bruce under him for a long moment, before moving at top speed. Clark picked up his plate of tiramisu, dumped it on Bruce’s exposed chest and returned the plate and fork to the coffee table before resuming his position. From above Bruce, Clark had to gently hold the man down as he tried to dump the cold dessert off. Bruce settled with a suspicious look, so Clark let him go. 

“Was that necessary?” 

“You did order me to eat my dish, and you Bruce, are my favorite dish.” 

“That’s a terrible pu, pun.” 

Clark made a mental note of the way he had just nibbled Bruce’s nipple, to get the tiramisu off, so that he could do it again. Only on their second round, and Clark knew he loved it when he made Bruce stumble over words like that. Swallowing a mouthful, Clark paused to reply. “Aren’t all puns terrible? I think it’s a requirement that a pun be terrible for it to even count as a pun.” 

“I take your point.” Bruce looked thoughtful at that comment, so Clark decided a distraction was in order. Clark floated up to give Bruce a tiramisu flavored kiss and whisper in his ear. 

“Not yet, but you will.” Clark got to ignore the startled look as he went back to eating. 

“My, my! What happened to the incorruptible paragon of, of virtue?” Clark paused in lapping Irish cream out of Bruce’s bellybutton to reply, but remembering where he left off so he could cause Bruce to stutter again. 

“Who says this is corruption?” 

“In a lot of places, this is illegal, and you symbolize law and order.” 

“Fine. I leave it to you to make sure we only do this places where it’s legal.” Deciding that Bruce was tiramisu free, Clark felt like something salty would top it off nicely. Sliding downward, Clark found Bruce was almost ready to oblige. Teasing hands and teasing words, and Bruce would be his again. “Technically, a virtue can also be an advantage or an asset, instead of righteousness. I think us being together is defiantly a virtue.” 

“Clark?” Bruce’s voice lost the playful edge, but Clark had already started licking Bruce’s balls. _“I’m not so self-righteous to think I wouldn’t take one hundred thousand lives to see my mother’s smile.”_

“I believe in you, and I know you’ll do what’s right.” Clark had to say this around the testicle in his mouth, and Bruce moaned before replying. 

“Only you believe, I’ll prove myself worthy, prove my love.” Clark looked up at a thump noise, seeing Bruce had just punched the back of the couch. He looked frustrated, instead of like he was enjoying what Clark was doing. 

“Relax Bruce! I know what you feel, you don’t have to find the words to tell me.” Bruce lifted his head to look at Clark, and held Clark’s head in his hands, forcing eye contact. Bruce found words, and they weren’t his but the feelings were. 

_Thank God for your virtue_  
_And the wisdom in your eye_  
_Cause somehow you_  
_Get through on_  
_All that crazy in my mind_  
_If I can't have you_  
_If I can't have you_  
_I would be a river_  
_Dried up into dust_  
_I would be imprisoned for never_  
_Having loved_  
_If I can't have you_  
_I don't wanna be me_

Clark understood, and as much as he loved hearing it, he didn’t want to embarrass Bruce. So he’d reached down and started pumping Bruce’s cock, shutting him up. Bruce’s hands convulsed in Clark’s hair, and seconds later he provided the salty seasoning Clark had been working for. 

Pulling Bruce, his Bruce, into a firm hug, Clark flew them to the bedroom, with a careful eye on Alfred’s location. Bruce rolled over on the bed to dig through a nightstand drawer, to toss the lube to Clark. Bruce didn’t say anything, just gave Clark a look that had him more sure of this than he had ever been of anything. Clark had finally seen the truth, broken the code and Bruce would never get rid of him now. 

“I love you too, Bruce.” 


End file.
